Son of Númenor
by Ariane1
Summary: Faramir & Éowyn - Faramir has a strange vision in the hills of Rohan.


**Son of Númenor**

Who knows what turns a father's heart against his son? I know that I have sought this knowledge since that first hour I recognized the loathing in my father's eyes. But now his eyes no longer shine with bitterness, nor can I recall with clarity his harsh words. 

Last night, I roamed the hills of Rohan, driven from the Golden Hall of Edoras by the laughing, boisterous crowds. I do not begrudge my love her family, for she has suffered losses deep as mine. But last night as the sun set, in the midst of the merrymaking, I was overcome with a sudden restlessness. With feeling of foreboding and with emptiness in my heart, I stepped outside to ease my spirit; and there, in the soft stillness of twilight, I saw the ghost of my father beckoning to me. 

I believe I am a brave man, but the sight unnerved me. Was it a trick of the Shadow lingering ever in my heart? I called to him, but he turned his back to me and walked away, southward into the night. I was never so bereft, as in that moment when I felt the lonely fate which life had given me. 

My beloved brother, dead. My father, gone mad in grief and desperation, his final gesture toward me, one of death. I longed for them both: the brother who loved me, and the father who could not. Though Imrahil, my mother's brother, has given me friendship and solace, there is no one of my father's blood to whom I may turn who knows my heart, whether in hatred or love. No one lives who knows the child I was or the man I have become. I am the last of my line. 

And so, thinking thus, I fled into the hills, searching for the words or actions that would appease my father's shade if it should appear to me again. Beneath a waning moon, I stood upon a wind-swept summit, gazing southward toward Gondor, when the vision came to me--forceful and overpowering as that great, dark wave which cleansed the sins of Númenor long ago, and which so often haunted my dreams. 

I saw my father in all the ages of his life, both young and old. I asked him to reveal to me how I had wronged him that he should hate me so. And then I saw myself, in his eyes and face, and knew that he lived on in me. His blood forever speaking in me, though he has passed from this world.

The memories returned in fragments: his curious and anxious looks as he observed the quickness of my mind or listened to me in grim silence as I revealed the strange dreams which came to me unsought. And my waking visions which brought a flash of ...yes, I can name it now--jealousy--to his eyes; he feared the gift of seeing which I had inherited from him. And finally, I remembered his cruel words as he spoke of my love for all things ancient and beautiful, which he ridiculed as a weakness. 

In remembering, I understood at last. I was the mirror of his soul. His true second-self upon this earth. I was his lost innocence and hope. He could not love in me what he hated in himself: a true son of Númenor, cast adrift in a world that valued only strength of limb and lust of blood.

My dreams and visions, the songs of ages past which possessed my heart, all these things he knew and understood and feared in me, for they were a reflection of his own gifts. Yet, he would be a king, and his pride twisted him, as this dark age has corrupted many a man of good and gracious heart. 

In my brother, my father could love what he was not: the boldly brave spirit, impetuous, and free from the burdens of the past, and the son who gladly sought the fierce battle and the calls of war and glory. 

But in me, my father saw himself and despaired. And thus does despair turn to hate.

As I turned my back on this vision with a heavy heart, I heard his voice, clear and strong as if he stood beside me. He spoke these words: _forgive me._

And then I wept and was not ashamed of my tears. I wept for my father, for the gentle, proud heart turned to bitterness and dust, and for the love he could not share with me in life, but only now, in death. I felt his hand upon my brow, tender and hesitant. I saw his yearning face before me, and in pity, I forgave him. And then the vision ended and I was alone.

Saddened, I returned at dawn to the Hall of Rohan; it was silent. I thought that all inside were sleeping and I made to enter; but a gentle hand touched me and drew me back into the fading moonlight. 

Éowyn had kept watch for me, standing there alone in the shadows, waiting through the darkening hours for me to return. I can not tell you how it warmed my heart to see her, to feel the sweet strength of her beside me. I begged her to forgive me my absence, but she silenced me with a loving smile and placed her hand upon my heart. 

"I do not fear to lose you, for you have given me your soul for safekeeping. I am your shield maiden and fierce shall I be to those would harm you. But you and I have walked the same path. I understand the call of solitude." 

Here she laughed, and spoke softly, taking both my hands in her own. "Let there be no words of grief between us," she said. "But know this. I shall be at your side through darkness and light, in love if not in body. Always." 

She drew me toward the east where beneath scarlet-stained clouds, the sun was rising. 

"My lord, do not be sad. There are many dawnings before us. Let us ride out together this day and make a new beginning. I feel spring rising, though the grass is yet grey. Winter can not last forever."

In the mirror of her eyes, I saw love and knew that I was blessed. My night's sorrow was only a farewell to the past, a parting gift from my father, who could not speak to me so clearly in life. 

I was blessed. She kissed me softly, chastely, with a maiden's tender lips, full of promise. With her touch, she called to my blood, my soul, and granted me a vision of aching beauty.

There, in her eyes, I saw a garden and children laughing, and long days of happiness and nights of love; and beyond, deeper into a distant future, I beheld a thousand generations of our blood flowering until the final days of man, when time would sweep the children of Númenor in one last, gentle wave beneath the sea. 

She kissed me again and brought me back from my vision with her warmth. Hand in hand, we entered the Golden Hall of Edoras, and she led me into a chamber paneled with rich dark wood, carved with the curious symbols of her people. There upon a bed of softly woven blankets and thick quilts, she held me in her arms and gave me rest. 

~fin~


End file.
